


How Do You Solve a Paradox?

by Vaderisbae



Category: Witches of Woodside, Witches of Woodside (D&D Twitch Stream)
Genre: Alex is possessed, Blood and Injury, Mari deserves a fucking break, Temporary Character Death, The Spectator is enigmatic, This one’s gonna hurt, What if?, but doesn’t get one here!, get ready for Pain, mentions of drug abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:47:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26538316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaderisbae/pseuds/Vaderisbae
Summary: An interesting paradox: what would Marigold Williams do in the face of death at the hands of her brother?Would she allow him to kill her to keep from hurting him? Or would the pain of murdering his only sister be a far worse fate for Alex than any pain Mari could inflict in self defense?
Kudos: 2





	How Do You Solve a Paradox?

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this dreadfully heartbreaking story was spawning by some comments in the Witches of Woodside Discord. Mari would sacrifice ANYTHING for her younger brother, even if it required her life. Even if it required letting her brother murder her. But is the pain and guilt of murdering his sister be too much for Alex to live with?

Tears streamed in rivulets down his cheeks, in stark contrast to the dark glee in his eyes and too wide smile. 

“Alex, Al, please,” Mari pleaded, scrambling backwards on her elbows and hands as he stalked nearer, “you’ve gotta resist! It’s not real, it’s me, it’s your Mars Bar!” Her voice cracked as sobs bubbled up her throat. The corridor was silent except for her whimpers of pain, Alex’s relentless footsteps, and the screeching rasp of metal on tile. A red glow had overtaken his irises, bleeding into the whites of his eyes and illuminating the sickening Cheshire Cat grin contorting his face. 

“Now, now, Mar,” the sibilant crooning emanating from her brother’s mouth sent waves of revulsion down Mari’s spine. “Keep still and this will all be over soon.” Not-Alex brought a bloody finger to his lips and licked it clean. “Well, not too soon. A demon’s gotta have it’s fun.” The grin stretched impossibly broader, the skin beginning to split at the corners.

“Alex, no, it’s me,” Mari’s begging seemingly fell on deaf ears. This monster (my brother, she thought), her brother sauntered closer and swung the jagged scimitar he had been dragging at his side up onto his shoulder with ease.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. When she’d gotten a text from Alex that morning telling her he needed help and it was an emergency, she hadn’t hesitated to buy the first plane ticket back to that hellhole of her past. It was for him, her baby brother, her Alex. She'd made a promise to always be there for him, no matter what. Nothing was too much to sacrifice for him. Not even her life. When she’d arrived at the airport, she’d gotten another text telling her to meet him at his high school. She’d flagged down a taxi and was urging the driver to go faster without even pausing to question how odd it all was. Alex needed her and she had promised to be there for him, _always_.

Dusk had overtaken the sky by the time the cab pulled up in the deserted parking lot outside Alex’s school. Mari had climbed out and frozen at the sight of the building, long-suppressed memories rushing to the fore, old emotions threatening to paralyze her completely. She drew in deep, shuddering breaths and shook off the cresting panic in favor of focusing on Alex and what could possibly be so wrong that he was refusing to answer her frantic calls. She climbed the steps to the wide double-doors and pushed tentatively on one. It opened with a squeak, to her surprise; she’d been sure the school would be locked up by this time in the evening. It was late enough that even the longest sports practices should've been over hours ago. Pushing the door open wider, she stepped inside, body shivering instinctively at the oppressive air of malevolence oozing out of every crevice. She remembered high school being hell, but not this bad. No, this was something else, something **_wrong_**.

“Mari!” Alex’s voice echoed down the darkened hallway, lit only by what seeped in through windows from the street-lamps outside.

At the sound of his distress, she abandoned any pretense of caution and went sprinting full-tilt down the corridor. _Schick_ went the blade as it embedded itself in her thigh, halting her careening turn around a corner. Hot, nauseating pain flashed from the wound to the tips of her fingers, electric currents of agony shooting throughout her nervous system. Glowing red eyes stared out at her from her brother’s angelic face as she collapsed to the cold tiles with a scream. She gagged at the sound of the blade unsheathing itself from her leg. A piercing laugh rang out of Alex’s chest, at complete odds with his usual laugh, normally warm and vibrant.

And now here Mari lay, arms faltering under the strain of dragging herself backwards, wounded leg leaving a distressingly thick trail of red on the spotless floor. Weakness plagued her limbs, the blood loss sapping any remaining strength from her body. An unceasing flood of appeals to the brother she knew fell from her lips, to no effect. Alex wasn’t home at the moment. Whatever had hold of him now was in full control. The only sign that anything of her brother remained was the still-flowing trails of tears. Mari couldn’t bring herself to defend against him. This was Alex, still just a kid, still just trying to survive high school and his asshole dad. It hadn’t been that long ago that they’d been stretched out next to each other on the roof of Mari’s building, watching the stars together for the first time in three years, just like when Alex was little. She’d told him how much he meant to her, the whole world, and dreamed of the day she would get to finally bring him to a new home where he wouldn’t have to hide or be afraid anymore.

All that bittersweet happiness seemed like a dream in the reality of Alex hefting that bloody scimitar on his shoulder and murder in his every movement. She had no idea what happened to him, no clue as to how he had become this way. But regardless of the menace leaking from his too black shadow and hellfire-lit eyes, she was incapable of hurting her sweet boy. There was nothing in her arsenal of warlock powers that could stop him without injuring him, perhaps even killing him. So there was nothing she could do but die. Death was infinitely better than causing her brother pain. She stopped her struggling and closed her eyes, accepting her fate.

Suddenly, she was falling, tumbling ass over teakettle backwards into blackness. Images flashed by her too quickly to catch anything other than fragments of words and scraps of color. Her body hit the ground, no that wasn’t right, her something hit a surface, but she felt nothing other than a vague sense of impact. She wasn’t here, wherever here was, not really. A figure of inky smoke solidified close to her and held out a hand to help her up. She ignored the offer and stood on her own, craning her head to look at her surroundings. There was nothing but four walls of shiny onyx and a floor seemingly of the same material.

“Oh, well look who decided to drop in,” The Spectator crossed his arms over his chest, black eyes amused as always. “Haha, that’s not funny. Where the hell am I? And more importantly, where’s Alex?”

“Hmmm, the same place you left him. You didn’t really go anywhere. I just felt like you needed to understand the ramifications before making such a permanent decision.”

“You know what happened to Alex?” In a blink, Mari was right up in The Spectator’s face, hands twisted in the lapels of his jacket. “Tell me.”

“I’m not actually omnipotent, despite your confidence in my abilities.” He replied, brushing Mari off easily as a fly. “I don’t know exactly what happened, but I do believe that he is currently being possessed by a fiend of some power. Not as powerful as me, of course, but still…”

“Why are you even here?” Mari questioned, hating the feeling of time slipping through her fingers like sand in an hourglass, losing whatever minuscule moments she had left to banter with this insufferable hell-spawn.

“Like I said, you need to fully understand your decision before just giving up.” He spoke as if the very idea of giving up disgusted him. “I can’t change what happened to Alex, but I can give you some options as to how to proceed. First, let’s see what would happen to your dear brother if you continue with your misguided attempt to save him from harm by letting him kill you.”

He snapped his fingers and the world around them whirled before juddering to a stop, the scene before them showing the exact moment he had pulled her out of. Alex, standing over her, sword held high, arms taut with the weight. Mari stood looking down at herself, an eerily serene expression on her face, eyes closed, wild mane of hair sticking to streaks of blood on her face. The Spectator snapped again and the world hurtled back into motion, sword swinging down. Mari had to look away before the arc ended, covering her ears to block out the horrible noise of blade grating against bone. Moments later, a clang resounding through the hands over her ears, and she opened her eyes to witness Alex collapsing to his knees like a puppet with its strings severed, the supernatural red glow evaporating to reveal his usual baby blues, so like Mari’s own, and sword dropping from his grip. He clutched his head in his hands, bowing over his knees almost as if in prayer. Mari heard muffled groans of pain as Alex remained in that position for a few minutes, crimson pooling around him from the spot Mari still couldn’t bring herself to look at. After what seemed like an eternity, Alex sat up, spine creaking like an arthritic old man’s. He slowly, agonizingly slowly, dragging his eyes up the path of the draining blood, fixating on that spot. Under the splashes of red, his face lost all color. He jerked to the side, puking his guts out over and over until nothing came up but bile. He wailed her name, the howl of grief and anguish echoing endlessly down the empty halls, amplifying until it was all Mari could hear, reverberating through her bones with merciless force.

“STOP!” She screamed over the sound of her brother's sorrow. “ **STOP**! Okay, I get it!”

 _Snap_. They were again in the black room. “I know that me dying is going to hurt, but he’ll be okay eventually! He has to be!” Mari insisted, ignoring the needling thought of how can I protect him if I’m dead. 

“Oh Mari. My sweet, innocent, _wholesome_ Mari.” The Spectator looked at her with mock pity.

“I am not yours!” Mari shot back, more out of instinct than real anger. She was still reeling from seeing her own death and the bone-deep grief in Alex’s voice.

“Your brother, who you love so much, just murdered his sister, violently, without mercy. He's sitting there covered in your blood. And I bet the fiend controlling him forced him to watch the whole thing. And the worst part? He won’t even be allowed to grieve for you.”

 _Snap_. The world spun. They were standing at the edge of a grave, a casket lowering into the ground. A crowd of people: Anthe, Kat, Artie, Justin, Dor-Vey, Trish, even Vicky from work. More of her friends. But no family. No mother, no Sebastian, no Alex. Her heart crumbled slightly as she watched the funeral service end without a glimpse of her siblings. She would’ve thought that at least Sebastian would have shown, even just for a bit. 

_Snap_. They were in Alex’s room, but it was empty. She heard the all-too familiar clangor of Davian shouting. She made her way to the stairs, peering down the extravagant staircase to see the Asshole in the grand entry screaming at a defeated looking Alex. Her brother’s shoulders were hunched, face pinched, and looking like he’d lost an unhealthy amount of weight, almost just skin and bones now. She couldn’t tell how much time it had been, it could’ve been weeks or years since her funeral. He looked... _broken_. That was the only word that came to Mari’s mind. Just completely and utterly broken, empty, hollowed out. Just a shell of the lively, funny kid she watched grow up. Davian railed at Alex without him even attempting to defend himself, face blank other than all-consuming apathy disguising soul-tearing grief. Mari made to run down the stairs and sweep Alex into her arms, shielding him from Davian’s vitriol, but before she could…

 _Snap_. Mari almost face planted as her feet tripped on the jarring transition from wood floors to rough concrete. She looked around, confused. The building around her looked long abandoned. Ratty mattresses were scattered across the bare concrete floor, most occupied by people in various states of filth. Why had The Spectator brought her here? This was very obviously a drug den, not that she had any personal experience with those. Why would...no. Mari scrambled from mattress to mattress, searching for a familiar face. 

There. Tucked into a dark corner, a form barely recognizable as Alex lay in a delirium, discarded needle next to him evidence of his drug-induced haze. Mari tried to grab his face, check his pulse, open his eyelids, but her hands hit an impenetrable barrier just an inch away from his skin. She pounded insubstantial fists against the boundary preventing her from interacting with this future version of her brother. He was years older, a full adult, looking to be in his late twenties, though physical appearance lied when it came to elves. Mari whipped around to The Spectator, now standing right behind her. She backpedaled at his unexpected nearness, the barrier around Alex being the only thing saving her from toppling onto her ass.

“No! This isn’t him! I refuse to believe this is what’s going to happen!” Mari’s tone was equal parts fury and fear. “This is just some sick joke!” 

“Look, my dear, I have nothing to gain from just fucking with you. I could do that anytime, I don’t need you to be near death for that. You demanded that I tell you what would happen if you let Alex murder you. Well, here it is. Your brother never gets over the guilt and agony of murdering his sister with his own two hands. Davian forbids him or your mother or your older brother from attending your funeral. Alex never gets closure. He spends the next several years drowning his pain in alcohol, much like another young teenager I know, and when that failed to work after decades of trying, he moved on to the harder stuff. Slowly, he wastes away in squalor, abandoned by his biggest supporter and champion, that’s you by the way, and his family. Davian cuts off all ties with his wayward son, writing him off as a failure. Your mother and Sebastian try to help, but Alex pushes them away every time, until finally, they too give up. This is how he spends the rest of his life, Marigold. Broken. Alone. In pain. All because you were too weak. All because you **gave. Up**.”

Mari was on her knees, hands braced against the invisible wall between her and her brother, the person who meant more to her than words could express, the person she would kill for, tear down worlds for, destroy **_gods_** for. Die for. She couldn’t let it end like this. It didn’t matter that this was all probably just hallucinations from The Spectator, who insisted on fucking with her one more time before she died. It didn’t matter if this wasn’t real. Just the possibility that anything like this could happen to Alex was enough to break her. She had to stay. Stay to protect him, to help him, to shield him from the shit life tried to throw at him. Even if it meant causing temporary injury to him right now. Steeling herself for whatever was about to come, she spoke up.

“Okay, what am I supposed to do to fix this? What the fuck else can I do?” 

“Mmm, that’s easy,” The Spectator’s oily smile slipped into place. “I can give you what you need to free your brother from the possession. All I need in return is a handshake.”


End file.
